


Be Gone

by feverkylo



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Desperate Boys, M/M, POV First Person, Please Forgive me, and desperate fucking, but i am, im not trying to make anyone cry, just desperate tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8453470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverkylo/pseuds/feverkylo
Summary: Somehow we keep ending up together, even though most of the time we just fall apart.





	1. Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Ryden is dead. I know it, but it doesn't stop me from writing angsty shit about their complicated relationship. I hope you enjoy.

I hate him. I’m supposed to hate him, at least. Everything he does should send a jolt of anger through me. Or maybe his doings shouldn’t affect me in any way anymore.

  
It’s been a year. A full year. Last time we met it was at a Halloween party and he was with her, Sarah. They looked stunning, like a dream couple. I tried to avoid him but of course our paths met and halfway through the night we found ourselves undressing in a closet. Our hot breaths got mixed as we panted against each other’s mouths, his face paint got smudged and we were being so obvious, but it didn’t matter.

I needed him so badly. He needed me too, otherwise he wouldn’t have ditched his wife and gone off with me. Somehow I was still the second choice, like always. I don’t know what I expected, not a fairy tale end for sure because we’re not like that. Still, him pushing me away hurt. Like it does every time.

  
So it’s been a full year and here I am; clutching a bottle of whiskey in my hand as I make my way to the front door, waiting for a taxi to pick me up and take me to a party someone is throwing. Knowing he isn’t going to be there this time makes my chest ache. I’m not sure if I’m more relieved or disappointed. I’m planning to drink so much I won’t remember a thing and have a good time, have a really fucking good time because damn right I can do that without him. Even though I know everywhere I go I’ll be looking for him, even when I know he won’t be there.

  
I take a sip of the golden liquid and pretend that I’m just some guy from Vegas who moved to LA to have a good time. That I’m just a nobody who never was in a band, who doesn’t know what it feels like to stand in the spotlight next to the most beautiful person in the world, watching him sing your lyrics. Who doesn’t know what heartbreak feels like.

  
*

  
Around five am I wake up and come back to my senses. I’m laying on my front yard with an empty bottle in my hand. It’s not my bottle, but someone else’s and I wonder if I still have my wallet and keys with me or if I lost them at some point. I also wonder if the taxi guy who gave me a ride back home saw me falling down. Maybe he did and thought I’d be better off chocking on my own vomit as he drove off.

  
I sit up and my vision blurs for a moment. I hear Dottie barking inside, she must’ve woken me up. I try to get on my feet, but keep stumbling and falling back on my ass. I give up. Fuck, I give up on everything.  
I lie back down and spot a few stars on the early morning sky. I know it’s corny, but I hope he’s looking up to the sky right now too. I hope he remembers last Halloween as well as I do. I hope he misses me. I sure as hell miss him. I always do. Every fucking morning I wake up and I hope he’s next to me. I open my eyes and instead of seeing his relaxed face, slightly parted, plump lips and messy hair, I’m alone. And the worst part is that I can’t shake this off. This is not a long, disturbingly well detailed nightmare, but my life. My life that feels utterly meaningless when he’s not close to me.

  
*

  
The morning light shines in through the window. I forgot to close the curtains and when I try to roll out of my bed I end up falling on the living room floor. Fuck. I forgot I passed out on the couch.

  
Dottie is happy that I’m awake; she might just be the only one thinking so. She waves her tail and follows me with her puppy eyes. I stumble to the kitchen, drink water, go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I try to put together the bits and pieces I remember of last night, not that it really matters since nothing important happened, I’m just trying to keep myself entertained. I try not to focus on my reflection in the mirror. I look like a mess.

  
I think I sucked some guy off. I remember his moans and a red curtain that we were hiding behind. I remember people, so many of them saying hi to me and I said hi back and we chatted for a minute until the next ones came around. I was fucked out of my mind by one am.

  
I shower for almost an hour. Letting the warm water run over me, washing away all the sweat and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol and perfume. I feel disgusting, but it might just be because of the hangover. I’m not sure if I had a good time last night. Time keeps passing by and I just stand in place, confused, looking around for something to hold onto. And just like that I have missed my chance.

  
After showering I put on a pair of boxers and a simple white t-shirt. I smoke outside as Dottie runs around the yard. I feel empty.

  
“Dot!” I yell when she goes too far away. “C’mere,” I say and she waves her tail and follows me back inside. My house is quiet. Like it’s waiting for something, but I don’t know what. I break the spell as I start moving around in the kitchen, deciding to make something to eat. Dottie sits on the carpet in the middle of the room, keeping her eyes on me like I might disappear to another party again if she doesn’t guard me.

*

  
It’s late in the evening when a sharp noise disturbs my sleep. Dottie starts barking and this time I make sure I won’t fall off the couch to the floor. The knocking on the door comes again and I sigh. Who the fuck dares to disturb my evening nap?

  
“I’m coming, calm down!” I yell when the impatient knocking gets louder. My brain is still in a half-asleep state so opening the lock takes longer than usually. When I finally push the door open, ready to send whoever is behind it away, I come to a stop.

  
Him. I blink. He’s standing in front of me.

  
“Hey,” he says quietly. “I need a place to stay.” He’s wearing a grey hoodie, his hair is pushed back and it looks slightly dirty. He hasn’t slept, that’s obvious. He has short stubble on his chin and the corners of his eyes are slightly reddened.

  
“Brendon. What are you doing here?” I ask, sounding shocked, because that’s what I am.

  
“So much for manners,” he sighs, shifting his weight from one leg to another. His comment lacks the bite and I’m too shocked to get offended. “I need a place to stay,” he repeats more firmly this time. He has a back bag on his shoulders and I’m torn between kissing him and punching him.

  
I do neither; instead I step aside and motion him to come in. I have so many questions, but I hold it all in as I watch him step inside, take off his shoes and then give me a weak smile. He looks tired, he has bags under his brown eyes. He looks gorgeous anyway.

  
“I, um, I can make you a bed on the sofa?” I suggest and he nods. He doesn’t know where the living room is so he follows me to my bedroom, sits on my bed as I go through the closets to find him a pillow and a blanket. Is this really happening?

  
Dottie jumps on the bed next to him and I hear him quietly blabbering to her, calling her cute. I find what I’m looking for and lead him to the living room. Everything feels surreal, but I’m going to let him sleep before asking him questions. He gets pissed off easily when he’s tired and he looks so damn vulnerable, showing outside my door like an abandoned puppy, looking for a place to stay. My heart aches and I feel like I might die right here in the middle of my own damn living room.

  
“Thanks, Ry,” he mumbles as he sits down, taking the blanket and pillow from me.

  
“No problem,” I say. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hallway,” I inform and with that I leave him be. Dottie looks slightly confused, but quickly falls asleep on my bed. I can’t sleep. He’s in my house, after a year of nothing. He’s here and he smiled at me and I have no idea what all of this means.

  
*

  
After a few hours of restless sleep I decide to go check if last night was only a dream. It wasn’t. I find him sleeping on the couch, breathing evenly. I feel his spirit haunting every corner of my house.

  
“Christ...” I sigh, trying to understand how this all is supposed to make sense. What did he tell Sarah? What did he tell his friends? Why didn’t he go to someone else’s place if he needed a couch to crash on? Why did he come here?

  
I’m about to go outside for a smoke, but spot Dottie trying to jump on the sofa.

  
“No! Dottie!” I hiss, but she doesn’t stop. She jumps on the sofa and licks Brendon’s cheek. He stirs in his sleep and lets out a soft noise. I swallow loudly. “Dottie, get off of him!” I say, but she just ducks her head at me.

  
“Were you watching me sleep?” Brendon asks with a husky voice. I love how he sounds in the morning.

  
“No,” I say.

  
“Your dog is very touchy,” he tries to laugh when Dottie keeps licking his face, but I’m not amused.

  
“What are you doing here?“ I blurt out, crossing my arms over my chest. He sits up, pushing Dottie away. She settles at the end of the sofa, looking at me and Brendon questioningly. “You can’t just fucking show up behind my door after not saying a word to me in a year!” I bark when he stays quiet.

  
“Things aren’t going so well at home and I needed a pla-”

  
“Why didn’t you go to your friend’s house then, huh?” I ask. It’s not like I want him to go, it’s just that I know this won’t end up well.

  
“Do you want me to leave or...?” He snaps and I roll my eyes, annoyed.

  
“No! I mean yes. I don’t know. What are you here for? And don’t say it’s because you have problems with your angelic wife because I know that’s not why you’re here!”

  
“Why do you push me away?” He asks and gets up too, probably trying to make himself seem taller. “Last time you were basically throwing yourself at me!”

  
“Oh! So you’re here for a quick fuck, then? For old time’s sake? We should make this a tradition, don’t you think?”

  
“No! That’s not what I said-”

  
“Last time we saw was on Halloween! Brendon, that was a year ago!” I stare him down, but I know I sound more desperate than angry now. “You made it clear that that was the last time, because your life is so fucking perfect with her now,” I snarl. “Yet here you are.”

  
He steps towards me and for a second I’m sure he’s going to punch me. He doesn’t. He kisses me. And I kiss back, of course I do.

  
“I hate you so fucking-” he starts, but I kiss him again and pull him closer.

  
We’ve never really been the ones to take things slow, talk it through, be graceful. I pull his boxers down, rip his shirt off. He does the same to me and we let our hands explore each other’s bodies. I push him down on the sofa, movements full of longing.

  
We’re the ones staying together just to fall apart again.

  
His skin is smooth, his lips are full and perfect and we keep sharing desperate kisses. He doesn’t have to say it, I know he’s missed me. I can feel it in the way he digs his fingernails in my back and I’m not even inside of him yet. I grind down on him and he arches his back, pushing his hips up to meet mine. He’s beautiful.

  
I kiss his mouth that hangs open, lick his lower lip, the roof of his mouth. He moans quietly. My heart is racing wildly. More, more, more. I need more of him. I kiss my way down his body, bite the soft spot next to his hipbone. He shudders out a breath and grips my hair, letting his legs fall open.

  
“Ryan, fuck,” he moans when run my tongue along the downside of his hardening cock, from the tip to the base, down to his entrance. He lets out the most unholy noises when I lick him there, push my tongue in him and get him wet with my saliva.

 

My own cock aches and I reach down to slowly stroke myself. I’m quickly running out of patience so I lick my forefinger and rub it against his hole, causing him to jerk.

  
“Oh god, fuck...” he pants. I look up, his eyes are screwed shut and he’s biting his lower lip. I don’t want him to contain his moans, I want him to scream and cry out my name.

  
I push my finger in him and he tenses. No one’s fucked him in a year, I presume, but he gets used to one finger quickly. My saliva isn’t probably enough lubricate, but it’ll have to do. Besides, I know he loves it like this.

  
I feel the resistance of his muscles when I try to push in a second finger. He moans, begs and offers himself for me. I mumble sweet nonsense against his inner thigh and try to control myself. It’s hard to do that when I’ve missed him so much and it all starts to pout out, making my heart race and my head buzz. I pull my fingers out of him and move up to kiss him. God, I’ve missed him so much.

  
“I need you, Ryan, please. Fuck,” he mumbles, pecking my lips between words.

  
“I know,” I breathe and finally. Finally. I line myself up, my cock as slick as it gets from the mix of saliva and pre-come and I push the tip of my cock against his hole. We breathe together -I swear I’m not losing my mind just yet- our hearts beat in the same rhythm.

  
He feels hot and tight around me and I pant against his skin. His fingernails dig into my back and he pulls me down for messy kisses. This is how I want every morning to start.

  
I begin to thrust in and out of him, slowly at first, trying to saviour every second of it. But he’s a needy little thing and he keeps pleading for more, faster and harder, and I lose myself into him. Fuck, he always manages to tear me apart.

  
Somehow we keep ending up together, even though most of the time we just fall apart.

  
The pale morning light helps me see every detail on his skin. I touch his face, his cheeks, his full lips, short brown hair, the locks feel like silk when I run my fingers through them. He does the same to me, memorises my body the best he can. Fuck. Why does it always feel like it might be the last time when we’re together? The thought scares me and I press my forehead against his.

  
“Brendon,” I say, too far gone to really say anything else but his name. His hum of agreement turns to a moan when I hit the spot inside of him that makes his body tense, his back arch and his hips jerk up.

  
“Ryan, please. Don’t stop,” he moans, out of breath. He has sweat rolling down his neck and I give in the urge to bite him there. I reach down to touch his cock, stroking in times with my thrusts. He’s a panting mess and I want to remember this moment forever. I want to remember that I had him for a moment.

  
He comes suddenly, hips bucking up, mouth dropping open and the most beautiful, erotic sound escaping his shiny lips. I fuck him through it, feeling spurts of his come rolling over my knuckles. When he comes down, he eases the death grip he had on the blanket covering the couch. He brings his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks. He nibbles my jaw and looks into my eyes when body tenses and I come inside of him.  
I hear his soft voice mumbling something to me and I kiss him as I try to come down. Keep kissing him like it’s the only thing that matters.

  
*

  
His skin looks golden in the light of the setting sun. I listen to him breathe evenly, draw meaningless patterns on his back and smirk to myself. We spent the entire day fucking, laying in each other’s arms, fucking some more. Could we live like this? I wonder how long it’ll take before reality sets back in.

  
Not long, as it turns out.

  
“Everything’s a mess right now,” he says with a weak laugh, breaking the precious silence floating around us. I gently squeeze him in my arms, but he pulls away and sits up. “God...” he breathes, burying his face in his hands.

  
“You weren’t lying about having problems at home with Sarah, were you?”

  
“No,” he says.

  
“What does that mean for us?” I ask, maybe a little too hopefully.

 

“Us,” he repeats and my heart skips a beat. “Nothing, I suppose.”

  
I snort and he turns to glare at me. “We just fucked for hours. We slept together, we held each other. Does that mean nothing to you?” He doesn’t reply which is enough of an answer. I get up and angrily pull on some clothes. “So you think you can come here and fuck me whenever you feel like it? Am I some fucked up version of a rebound after you’ve had a fight with your wife?!” I ask. I’m so sick of fighting. I’m so sick of things being so hard with him.

  
“Forget about her!” He says defensively. “She has nothing to do with us.”

  
“Of course she has,” I say as I sit down on the armchair. I feel defeated. “You always choose her. She has everything to do with us.”

  
“There is no choosing,” he tries to point out, but I beg to differ.

  
“I was right. You did come here for a quick fuck, didn’t you?”

  
“Do you call an entire day quick?” He asks playfully, but I’m not in the mood. Not anymore. Why do I let him do this to me? He sighs. “Just think about us, Ryan. We have never worked before, you and me. How could we now?”

  
Somehow he manages to break my heart in one sentence. I lift my legs on the chair and wrap my arms around myself, keeping my eyes on the floor to avoid his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I say anyway.

  
“It never works for us and it never will, Ryan. We’re better off this way.”

  
“This way?” I ask with an empty laugh. “What does that mean? We fuck once every year? Or we fuck when you feel like it and then spend the rest of the time apologising.”

  
He doesn’t say anything and I get up, walking to the backdoor. It’s warm outside, the sun is setting and the city is full of happy people. I try to remember that there’s more than this, but I feel so heavy. I want him, but I’m tired of the pain that comes with having him. I watch the sunset and try to forget how much I miss him even though he’s right inside, so close yet it always feels like we’re millions of miles apart.

  
I hear his footsteps getting closer, but I don’t turn. He touches my hip, I don’t move. I feel his breath against the back of my neck. He wraps his arms around me from behind.

  
“I have to go. Sort things out,” he sighs heavily. “For what it’s worth, I really do miss you. I always do,” he says quietly.

  
“Then stay,” I plead.

  
“You know I can’t.”

  
I briefly glance at him when he pulls away from me, the warmth of his body disappearing. Our eyes meet and I’m scared this’ll be the last time. And just like that, he’s gone again.


	2. Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a detailed plot line planned for this story, but as for now I think it'll have two or three more chapters. I just enjoy writing this which is why I updated so quickly, let's hope I don't lose my inspiration. Also I want to note that I do not dislike Sarah (not for the sake of Ryden, not for any reason!!) This is simply fiction.  
> With that being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Have you ever just wanted to take a vacation from life? Have you ever wanted it all to stop for a minute so you can catch your breath?

  
I have.

  
A few days after he left, LA started feeling stuffy, my whole house started feeling stuffy. The air started feeling like fire and I started having nightmares.

  
Have you ever felt like life’s a joke and everyone else knows the punch line? Like you’re the one getting laughed at in the end?

  
I have. I do.

  
I let him screw me over yet again. I don’t know how to stop myself. He’s addictive and it’s not just the sex, it’s everything about him. I want every part of him. His gorgeous, warm smiles; the ones he used to give me a lot more and I want the curses leaving his lips every time he’s mad at me. The latter has become more familiar as the years have passed.

  
I sigh sadly, wanting to punch myself for being such a miserable cunt. My living room doesn’t feel the same after he slept on the couch. It was for one fucking night yet I feel like this house can never be a home without him in here. I’d choose us fighting, throwing shit and yelling at each other over this pressing silence anytime.

  
*

  
LA is warm. It’s dry. It’s full of people and noise and life. My head throbs painfully as I walk Dottie along the street, watching the people bathing in the sun. I feel sick. I want to get out of this town but I don’t know where else to go.

  
Dottie stops to sniff the side of the road and I stop too, readjusting the sunglasses that cover my eyes. I’m going over to Dan’s, since he invited me and I didn’t want to refuse. We haven’t seen in a while so I felt like it would’ve been rude to say no even though I’d rather be sleeping away my heartache and headache.

  
I keep imagining what happened when Brendon went back home. Was he being obvious, did he look fucked? Did she notice he had someone else’s touch in his mind? Or did they hug, make up and kiss, like married couples do? It’s hard to imagine Brendon living a domestic life with Sarah. Not that he couldn’t pull it off: his sweet wife and expensive house just all seem a little pretentious to me, that’s all. He was never the traditional type, or at least he never used to be. A lot has changed, though. And as the days pass I feel like I know less of him. Like he’s slipping away; leaving me with the part of him that I do remember. A part I’ll have to carry with me until the end.

  
I turn to the driveway that leads to Dan’s house and come to a stop; it’s a nice looking place. I breathe and try to force a smile on my lips. He’ll sense something’s wrong, though, no matter how hard I try. He’s not like Brendon used to be (still kind of is), not at all like Spencer used to be, but he still knows how to read me. The difference with him is that he doesn’t ask stupid questions, doesn’t make me talk if I don’t want to.

  
I ring the doorbell and clutch onto Dottie’s leash.

  
“Ryan!” Dan grins happily when he opens the door. “Hey, man,” he greets me as he pulls me into a one armed hug. I pat his back and feel Dottie jumping excitedly around us.

  
“Hey,” I say and push the sunglasses on my forehead when we pull apart.

  
“Hi Dottie!” He reaches down to pet her head, before looking at me again. “You look like shit,” he states honestly and I roll my eyes.

  
“That obvious?”

  
“Yeah. Come in,” he moves aside, giving me room. I set Dottie free and she runs inside as I take my shoes off. I follow Dan into the living room and sit down on the sofa, looking around mindlessly.

  
“So, what’s up?” I ask when Dan sits down with two beers, offering me the other one.

  
“Not much,” he shrugs. “We’ve got a pretty big gig, though. In two weeks!” He enthusiasts and I smile.

  
“That’s great.”

  
“Right?” He grins, but quickly turns serious. “I was thinking we’d go partying tonight, but you literally look like you’ve gotten run over by a truck. What’s happened?”

  
I hate that I’m being so obvious. I shrug and take a long sip of my beer. “Things happened.” He looks confused, but doesn’t question. I say: “I think I’m still in love.”

  
He sighs and shakes his head a little. “Oh you,” he smiles sympathetically. “It’s not going well, I presume?”

 

“Fuck,” I laugh, push locks of hair behind my ears. “Not at all.”

  
“Bottoms up, then,” he says after a silence and lifts his beer bottle. I mimic his action and drink.

  
After about two hours of messing around with guitars, jamming, drinking, and talking bullshit, we decide to go out anyway. Dan looks slightly concerned but I say it’ll cheer me up. So in forty minutes we’ve taken Dottie back to my place and we find ourselves in front of a half-decent club.

  
We pay for the doorman and he lets us in, the smell of hairspray and perfume and alcohol hitting me immediately. Dan grins at me and looks around. I think he invited other people too, I don’t mind. Dan spots his friends and I tell him I’ll go get a drink.

  
The music’s loud, like it is at every club, and my senses feel numb. I look around, lean my elbows on the bar table. I turn my head and try to look for Dan in the direction I came from. He’s disappeared somewhere, but I’ll find him easily enough. It’s not like he-

  
“Ryan?”

  
I hear my heartbeat in my ears as I turn to where the voice came. He’s standing next to me. Brendon is standing next to me, looking unsure and... angry? The lights are dim and blue, casting shadows on his face. I’m not sure if he’s just a ghost or if he’s actually standing there. He must be, because his form doesn’t start dissolving, he stays in place as I stare for too long.

  
“Are you on drugs?” He asks skeptically and I laugh.

  
“No,” I say. “What are you doing here?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  
“What do you think people do at clubs?”

  
I shrug and he motions towards the tables on our right. I spot Dallon there; talking animatedly to some guy I don’t know.

  
“Right,” I clear my voice. “Don’t you have private parties you could go to?” I ask, I don’t even mean to sound bitter or angry, but he seems to think I do.

  
“I can go party wherever I want,” he snaps and I roll my eyes, which turns out to be a mistake because he thinks I’m up for a fight. I’m really not. Though I could let him beat me up if that’d make him feel better. “And trust me, I definitely did not come here for you.”

  
“I get it, fuck! Don’t rub it in my face. Just leave me be,” I throw my hands in the air in surrender. Why does he have to constantly remind me about how he doesn’t want to see me? I shiver as I start walking away. Of all the people I have to run into him, it’s like the universe is mocking me. Or trying to give me a second chance... I shake the thought out of me head and walk to the bathroom, not wanting to ditch Dan just yet and not really wanting to join the party either. I splash cold water on my face and look at my reflection in the mirror. What am I supposed to say to someone I love, but who doesn’t love me back?

  
I hear the door opening, the loud music sounds clear for a moment until it gets blocked again as the door closes.

 

“Hey,” Brendon’s soft voice says.

  
“What do you want?” I ask, because first he’s putting up a fight and now he’s coming back to me.

  
“I want to talk,” he says and my heart starts racing. ‘I want to talk’ never means anything good.

  
“Okay,” I say skeptically and stand up a little straighter. My hands have started to sweat.

  
He looks around uncomfortably. “Can we go outside?”

  
“Fine,” I give in. He leads us out of the bathroom and through the club to the door. It’s getting colder outside, the sun has set. “How far are you planning to walk?” I ask when the club’s at least five blocks behind us and he’s still walking.

  
“Sorry,” he says, stopping. He looks lost and I hate it, hate the fact that I doubt there’s anything I can do to help him. I’m most likely the reason he feels like shit. I lean my back against the building we’re stopped in front of and he does the same, crossing his arms over his chest.

  
“What happened when you got back home? After we, well, the other night?” I ask despite myself. I don’t really want to know.

  
He shrugs. “I fought with Sarah.”

  
“And?” It creeps me out that we’re both so calm, I feel like this only means there’s a huge storm coming.

  
“She said it’s not the fucking that’s the worst part,” he laughs sadly.

  
“Then what is?” I ask, turning to look at him. He looks small and sad. Like life’s kicking him even though he’s already laying on the ground, bleeding. I want to hold him and tell him everything’s going to be all right, but I don’t know if it will. He stays quiet for so long I start to wonder if he even heard I asked him something.

  
“The fact that I have... feelings. For you,” he finally says and lifts his gaze from the pavement to me.

  
I can’t breathe.

  
“Brendon,” I start, but he stops me.

  
“I know. This is fucked up, isn’t it?” He sounds hysterical and starts phasing in front of me. “I don’t want to lose Sarah, she means the world to me, but...”

  
“But then there’s me,” I say in a neutral tone, scared to make any assumptions about what this might mean in the long run.

  
“Yeah,” he says, kind of laughing. “Then there’s you. You beautiful little fucker,” he’s smirking now and my skin feels electric. He called me beautiful. He’s smirking. He said he has feelings for me.

  
“Actually you’re the little one here,” I manage. It’s suddenly harder to breathe, but I’ll do anything to make him smile. I don’t want him to feel like everything around us is falling apart.

  
“This is just a little confusing to me,” he says quickly, his smirk faltering.

  
“I know,” I say, because I do. I get it -it’s not all black and white. He steps a little closer to me, entering my space, and I gladly let him. I wrap my arms around him and pull his body against mine. He nuzzles my neck and breathes shakily against my skin, making my chest expand.

  
“I need to figure this out,” he says. His breath feels hot and I know I shouldn’t, but I inch my hands lower on his back. “Ryan,” he says demandingly when I cup his ass. He doesn’t sound mad; I can feel him smiling against my neck.

  
“What?” I ask innocently and he chuckles. We stay in place, embracing each other, for a long while.

  
“I should head back inside; Dallon’s gonna wonder where I am,” he says and pulls way. I feel empty.

  
“Or you could come back to my place?” I suggest carefully.

  
“I don’t want to lie to my friends, Ryan. Not anymore,” he looks apologetic. I hope he is apologetic. “I need to figure everything out and then... Well, that’s what I need to figure out. How things will turn out.”

  
I only nod, feeling terrified. His marriage life is currently a mess and I guess he has to lie a lot. About me, amongst other things. Fame comes with a price. I’m not sure if this is worse than feeling flat out rejected. Him giving me a chance, even if it’s a small, tiny, tiny chance, cannot end well.

  
He keeps eye contact as he walks backwards, giving me the smallest of smiles. “I’ll catch you later, okay?” He asks.

  
“Yeah,” I say quietly and with that he turns his back and walks away. There’s hope in the air and I might just choke on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this far and still want to read more: THANK YOU!


	3. Love

It’s been eight days now, since we ran into each other at the club, though it’s not like I’m counting. I never went back inside, just walked along the sleepy steers of LA and thought about him. I told Dan I got a headache, but he probably knows it was a lie. He didn’t mind, he said he had an okay time.

  
My head’s a mess. I keep thinking of the things he said to me and the things I said to him, how we hugged afterwards. I keep obsessing over every little detail of the memory; keep thinking of how he’s considering, well, me. How he’s considering the thought of giving up what he has to be with me. I laugh in disbelief, waking up Dottie. She looks at me and waves her tail.

  
“Would you like to have Brendon living here?” I ask her. I shouldn’t expect the best, I know that. I’m just dreaming, that never hurt anyone, right? Not right. I, if someone, should know that. Still, I can’t silence my mind.

  
I’m only pulled back to reality when my phone rings. I reach for it and the blanket falls on the living room floor.

  
“Hey,” I answer mindlessly, trying to lift the blanket from the floor with one hand.

  
“Hi,” comes the reply and I freeze.

  
“Brendon?”

  
“That’s my name,” he says, laughing a little.

  
“I wasn’t expecting you to call,” I say honestly.

  
“I know, sorry. Is it a bad time?”

  
I think of how I slept through half of the day in my bed and the other half on the sofa where I still am. I’m rarely busy these days. “No, not at all,” I say.

  
“Cool!” He exclaims. “I’ve been doing interviews today and it’s finally all done so I thought, I don’t know... That maybe I could come over?” There’s a hint of seduction in his voice and the air around me suddenly feels hot. “If your offer to come over still stands?”

  
“Yeah, sure. Absolutely,” I say too quickly. My hands are sweating, I want him here. “How far are you?”

  
“It’ll take about 20 minutes to get there.”

  
“All right,” I say, smirking to myself. “I’ll see you then.”

  
“Yeah.” He hangs up and I smile as I lower my phone from my ear. I look around the messy living room and get up from the sofa, grabbing two of my shirts and the blanket and pillow (still the same ones he slept with) with me. I go to my room and shove the stuff I have on my hands to my closet. My bedroom isn’t messy, not really. I don’t bother making the bed because I know what he’s coming here for. I know.

  
Eight days. Suddenly I feel really proud of myself, for not texting him or calling him while drunk. He wouldn’t want me calling him, I know it. What if Sarah picks up or asks who was it that called him? He could lie, but he said he doesn’t want to, so I don’t want to force him into that. If he wants to play nice I’ll let him, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s coming over.

  
I’m still only wearing a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt and I come to the conclusion that that’s probably not the best way to charm a man. Just as I’ve gotten on a simple black shirt and black jeans, I hear the doorbell ring. Dottie starts barking and I tell her to quiet down as I make my way to the front door.

  
When I open the door for him, I lose my breath. He looks so stunning it takes a second for me to get myself together again. He’s wearing a tight, black shirt under a blue suit jacket and his hair is done perfectly.

  
“Hi,” he smiles a little awkwardly.

  
“Hi,” I reply, immediately reaching out to him. He steps closer and I take a hold of his hand, pulling him into me. His awkwardness quickly fades when I place a soft kiss on the side of his mouth. He tastes like alcohol and I pull back slightly, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you drunk?”

  
“No. A little tipsy, but not drunk,” he says, moving to rest his chin on my shoulder. His hot breath washes over my skin, making me shiver. He smells divine. Is it even possible to want someone this much?

  
“Have you, uh, have you talked with Sarah?” I ask, wondering if I really want to bring her up right now.

  
“Not really,” he admits with a weak laugh. He moves his hands up and down my sides, probably in attempt to calm himself down. He has no idea how much he’s distracting me. “I just wanted to see you.” He finally looks up and into my eyes.

  
“You being here doesn’t make anything easier,” I point out, but I don’t tend to make him doubt. I’m teasing him and he knows it.

  
“True,” he nods, hooking his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans. He pulls our bodies even closer together, shamelessly grinding against me. My breathing hitches.  
“I thought you didn’t want to lie anymore.”

  
“I’m not going to lie. I never was here, this never happened,” he says strictly. He’s having an inner battle about this, or if he isn’t, he will. I nod, anyway. It’s not like I would somehow turn this against him. And if I tell my friends that we’ve fucked, they wouldn’t mind. It’s different if he tells someone, I know it. He’s famous; everything’s different for him.

  
I lead us into the house, closing the door behind us. He’s clinging onto me and I feel fucking infatuated. I know this is bad and we shouldn’t be doing this, but I’ve let myself fall in too deep already. I’ve let him screw me over and I’m willing to let him do that again. I need him and he needs me, and when two people want each other enough, there’s nothing that can stop them.

  
“I want you so bad,” I whisper, letting him know how I feel. He replies by giving me a dirty kiss and moving his hands to the back of my neck, pulling me closer and keeping me in place.

  
This time I’m planning to take my time with him. I lead him towards the bedroom, helping him strip out of his clothes on the way as he does the same to me. If someone were to come in they could just follow the trail of clothes to find us.

  
My bedroom is dimly lit, the only light being the glow of the late evening coming from the window. I gasp quietly when he suddenly takes control and pushes me down on the bed. He moves to straddle me and runs his fingers over my chest, stopping to play with my nipples.

  
I breathe hard, try to concentrate. He looks gorgeous, breathtaking. I’m certain that he’s the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen. I reach up to cup his face and pull him down for a few soft kisses. I run my thumb over his cheek as his hand snakes down between us. He undoes my jeans and rubs my hardening cock through the thin material of my boxers. I moan against his lips and kiss him again and again and again, until my lips are numb.

  
He tugs my pants down and I lift my hips, trying to be helpful. I whine quietly when he pulls back, but it’s only for a second so he can undo his own jeans. I don’t feel exposed when I lay naked underneath him, I feel fucking needy.

  
“Fuck, you look hot,” Brendon pants, pushing his jeans and boxers down. He leans back down to kiss my jaw, neck and down to my collar bone. I let my hands roam over his back, feeling the muscles shift under his smooth skin. I nudge his temple with my nose and he lifts his gaze. Our eyes meet for a second before we kiss, wet and dirty. When our lips part there’s a trail of saliva between our lips and we both chuckle. His low and raspy voice turns me on a ridiculous amount.

  
We continue kissing and grinding, like horny teenagers (he has that effect on me.) He bites my neck and shifts his hips slightly, his cock sliding against mine. He moans and I flip us over, needing to have control over him.

  
“I’m curious,” I say against his lips and he hums, squirming. “How many other guys have you fucked, besides me?” Some side of me wants to know the answer, some doesn’t. I wouldn’t be jealous, not really, not when he’s spreading his legs underneath me, offering himself to me.

  
“While, ah, while being with her?” He asks, stopping to gasp when I rub the tip of my index finger against his entrance. I nod. “Only you.”

  
Something heavy sets in my chest when I hear him say those two words. I give in the urge to kiss his cheek, nose and lips. He chuckles and I smile, my chest expanding. I pull away and move to the side of my bed, going through the drawer of my nightstand. I find the lube and the pack of condoms, open the blue tube and pour some of the liquid on my fingers.

  
I return to my previous position on top of him and kiss him slowly as my fingers find his hole again. I push one finger in and he lets out a quiet gasp, his body tensing for a second.

  
“You okay?” I ask and he nods, moving to bite my lower lip. I start to slowly move my finger in and out of him, listening to the little gasps he lets out and how his breathing hitches when I push the digit in a little harder. I don’t warn him when I push in a second finger and he moans, squeezing my shoulders.

  
“Oh God, Ryan, fuck,” he swears and pulls me down for a fevered kiss. “I want you,” he says against my lips and I nod. “Please.”

  
He doesn’t have to plead, but it makes my cock throb when I hear him ask. I, of course, obey his will and reach for the condoms, sliding one on as he waits, spread out and panting on the bed. He hooks his leg over my back and I position myself against him.

  
“Ah, fuck,” he whines when I begin to push in. I come to a stop when I’m all in. He feels fucking divine, tight and hot.

  
“Christ...” I mumble against his neck. I can feel his pulse against my lips, his nails digging in my shoulders and his breath hitting my skin. I slowly pull out and then push back in hard, starting a steady rhythm.  
The air around us is hot and our sweaty bodies get glued together. I support myself up with one elbow and watch his face. His eyes are screwed shut, his brows are furrowed, his mouth hangs open and I kiss him. There’s sweat gathered above his upper lip and the kiss tastes salty.

  
My breathing quickens and he opens his eyes. God, he’s gorgeous, looking up to me with blown pupils and groaning quietly. I love him. This has to be love, it can’t be anything else.

  
“Brendon,” I say breathlessly and lower my head, pressing my nose against the crook of his neck. Fuck. I love him, love him, love him. I’m so screwed.

  
He bucks his hips up just in time to meet my thrust and we both moan loudly. He slides his hands down from my shoulders, stopping them over my chest. For some reason he pushes gently and I slow down a little, looking up to meet his eyes. I’d ask him if he’s all right, but all I can do is look in his brown eyes. I swear they are the most beautiful shade.

  
“I want to ride you,” he says, his voice husky and I shudder out a breath. He manages to flip us over so that my cock stays inside of him. I rest my head on the soft mattress and gaze up at him. I set my hands on his hips, stopping to give his flushed cock a gentle stroke. He groans and smiles at me, fucking smiles. I don’t understand how he manages.

  
It’s a little sloppy at first, when he begins to move himself on my cock, but soon he finds a good angle and a steady rhythm. I scratch his hips, probably leaving bruises as I pull him down. My head’s in a haze, all I see is him, all I feel is him and I don’t want this to ever stop.

  
“Oh God,” he moans when I push up a little differently, locating his prostate. I smirk and do it again. His body trembles and he starts moving faster, lifting himself up and pushing back down urgently. His moans start getting louder and whinier so I finally take a hold of the base of his cock. I start stroking him, squeezing a little on the upstroke. I try to keep the movement of my hand in time as he goes up and down, but I start losing my sense of rhythm.

  
“Please, Ryan,” he gasps. “Come for me.”

  
Now it’s my turn to moan helplessly. I feel my orgasm building up and I try to keep my eyes on him, but when my body jerks and tenses, my eyes fall shut. I feel him lean down to kiss me as I come, murmuring something to me, but I’m too far gone to hear his words. My hand’s still wrapped around his cock and I jerk him off faster, with the little sense I still have in me. He keeps fucking himself on me and it doesn’t take long until I hear him moan loudly against my neck. He bites down on the skin as he comes over my hand and between our bodies.

  
We stay in place for several minutes, trying to even out our breaths. His body has gone slack on top of mine and his come is drying between us, gluing us together. I feel fucking torn open, overwhelmed by everything I feel for him. I remove my hand from his softening cock and wrap my arm around his body.

  
“Fuck,” he laughs, sounding breathless and a little disbelieving. He sets his arms on both sides of my head and rests his forehead against mine. “Was that as good for you?” He asks like my current state isn’t enough of an answer. I hear the smirk in his tone and slide my hand down his back to slap his ass.

  
“You bet,” I manage. My voice is hoarse and I’m so glad I don’t have to get out of bed. I doubt I’d be able to even walk. He laughs and since I’m still in him I feel it in my whole body.

  
He kisses my jaw gently and brushes hair out of my sticky forehead. His nose presses against my hot cheek and it takes everything in me to not blurt it out. That I love him. Fucking hell I love him so much. Instead of saying anything, I turn to lie on my side, keeping him in my arms.

  
“You wanna sleep?” He asks quietly and I nod. I’ll do anything he wants.

  
*

  
I let my eyes roam over his pale skin. It almost looks like he’s glowing under the dim moonlight. He sighs and turns on his back, not bothering to cover himself and I smirk. He’s looks fucking glorious naked.  
“What?” He asks, rubbing his eyes. He starts shuffling closer to me, his movements still slow since he woke up only a few minutes ago.

  
“Nothing,” I shrug and pull him in my arms. He relaxes against my body and breathes evenly, his lips pressing ever so softly against my throat. “Do you think we could make it?” I randomly ask, fully aware of how he could now pull away from me. He does that when reality sets too heavy in his mind. This time he stays where he is, shivering slightly and I wrap my arms tighter around him, like that could somehow bring him warmth.

  
“I don’t know,” he says. “I mean... you’ve been in my life from, well, almost from the beginning. You’ve seen every side of me, you’ve,“ he sighs heavily, like the words are too hard to say. “You’ve always been there for me.” He sits up and the lack of skin on skin contact makes me whine quietly. He’s looking out of the window and into the night. “I’m so sorry. About everything,” he swallows loudly. I stare at him.

  
“Don’t be.” I sit up, too, and move closer to him. I don’t know if he wants me to keep my distance, but he doesn’t protest when I wrap my arms around him again, though this time in a sitting position.

  
“I want to be with you,” he says, but doesn’t sound cheerful. “But you know how it is.” He cranes his neck to look at me.

  
“God, you’re beautiful,” I breathe, partly to change the subject, but mostly because he is. He is so fucking beautiful my chest aches. He laughs, sounding a little chocked up.

  
“I don’t feel beautiful,” he admits and sniffles. “I feel ugly. I feel gross. And not because of what we did or what we’ve been doing,” he adds quickly. “But because I don’t regret anything. Because I keep messing up people’s lives and I don’t do anything about it. I don’t change, I don’t get better.”

  
I try to come up with something meaningful to say, but it seems hard. Though I know exactly how he feels. I keep doing the same mistakes too. I don’t even know if I can call them mistakes, since I don’t regret a second I’ve spent with him.

  
“Am I a bad person?” He asks quietly.

  
“No,” I say without hesitation. He looks at me with big, sad eyes.

  
“I feel like one.”

  
“Me too.”

  
He leans into me, nuzzles his nose against the crook of my neck and hugs me. I hug him back and lift my right hand in his hair, caressing softly. My bedroom feels like a tiny world of its own, a place where only the two of us exist. It’s surreal. I never want to leave this room but I know I’ll have to. I try to reassure myself with the fact that he’s here now; in my arms, leaning into my touch. I’ll always have this moment no matter what will happen.


End file.
